I shot my cousin a sympathetic look, then continued down the hall.
But I only made it ten feet before Mateo’s voice caught my attention and I stopped outside Manx’s bedroom. I shouldn’t have listened. The closed door said they wanted privacy, and the anxious whispers only underlined that fact. But across the hall, Owen was sleeping off his latest dose of pain pills, and while Manx and Teo weren’t my business, they were my brother’s business. So I told myself I was listening for him.
“…not safe here anymore, and our door is always open to you. You have choices, Mercedes. You don’t have to stay here just because this is where you landed, or because you feel obligated to them.”
A dresser drawer slid shut. “I like it here,” Manx said, in her firm, lilted speech.
“I know. I just want you to know that we’d be happy to have you. I’d be happy to have you. I can take care of you, Manx. You and Des.”
Her footsteps paused, and I pictured her staring at the ground, clothes in hand as she weighed what was best for her son against what was best for her heart. “Yes,” she said finally. “I believe that you can.”
That was all I could take.
Yes, Manx had choices, but sometimes choosing for yourself is just as hard as accepting someone else’s choice for you.
Twenty-four minutes later, we stood by the back door, the women at center stage. Kaci wore a stuffed backpack and cradled a sleeping Des, who was blissfully unaware of the danger we were about to carry him into. I had my old college book bag, and just behind us, Mateo Di Carlo carried Manx’s duffel over one shoulder, and his own smaller bag over the other.
My heart ached as I hugged my mother. We weren’t sure whether or not she fell under Malone’s orders to spare the women, since she was beyond childbearing age and long-since married. My father had tried to talk her into going with us, just in case, but she’d stubbornly refused.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” I whispered as I clung to her. “You know how impulsive and bullheaded I am. I could use someone to keep me in line.”
My mother laughed and pulled back so she could see my face. “You’ll grow out of the impulsiveness, and you get the bullheadedness from me. No matter what your father says.” She shot an affectionate glance at him over my shoulder. “But I need to stay here.”
The way she eyed me intently, meaningfully—and the way she spoke her next sentence—sent a violent assault of chills up my spine. “Now, go say goodbye to your father.”
I nodded, still staring into her eyes. Trying not to understand the message she was sending. But it was all too clear.
The man with the gun would be the first and most obvious target. My mother was staying because there was a good chance that this might be my father’s last fight.
I blinked back tears, then turned to hug my father, acutely aware that this was unlike any other preassignment goodbye we’d ever shared. “Be careful,” I whispered, breathing in his scent—the leather, coffee, and aftershave I’d always associated with absolute safety and authority, even if I sometimes chafed under the yoke of them both.
“I was going to say the same thing to you.”
“If you guys make enough noise, we’ll be fine.” I sounded confident, though I was far from sure.
“Oh, we’ll make noise,” Jace promised, and I turned to hug him, too, holding him just a second longer than I should have. Then I went on to hug Michael, Vic, Parker, and Brian. I’d already said goodbye to Owen in his room, where frustration had gleamed like tears in his eyes. He hated missing the fight almost as much as I did. But he’d already struck his blow and given us our prisoner. And without Kai, we wouldn’t know enough to even think about fighting his Flight members.
So I’d kissed the cowboy goodbye and called him my hero. Then ordered him to stay in bed and recuperate.
“Faythe…” Marc began when I faced him, the last of my farewells. But he didn’t have to say any more. We’d said goodbye entirely too often in the past few months, and leaving him again was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Watch yourself.” I went up on my toes to kiss him and let the contact linger a bit longer than I normally would have in front of an audience. “And watch my dad.”
“You know I will.”
And I did know. Marc’s role in the upcoming melee was to protect his Alpha: the man with the gun. And in truth, that would probably be easier without me there for them both to worry about. No matter how far I progressed in my training, no matter how well I fought in either form, there was always someone trying to defend me. Thus putting himself and others in unnecessary danger.
“I’ll see you soon.” I squeezed him harder.
He smiled. “I’d bet my life on it.”
My father cleared his throat. “Everybody ready?”
“Where’s Manx?” I scanned the small crowd and saw her stepping out of Owen’s room. She flushed when she saw us watching, then her stride quickened and grew more confident.
“We are ready?” She took Des when Kaci held him out to her, obviously aware of all the eyes focused on her. Including Mateo’s.
“We are.” As ready as we were going to get, anyway.
My father stepped forward, holding the pistol, and gestured toward his left. The guys—all except Mateo—headed for the front door. My dad turned to me one last time. “Carey Dodd’s already in place waiting for you. You have his number, right?”
But I only made it ten feet before Mateo’s voice caught my attention and I stopped outside Manx’s bedroom. I shouldn’t have listened. The closed door said they wanted privacy, and the anxious whispers only underlined that fact. But across the hall, Owen was sleeping off his latest dose of pain pills, and while Manx and Teo weren’t my business, they were my brother’s business. So I told myself I was listening for him.
“…not safe here anymore, and our door is always open to you. You have choices, Mercedes. You don’t have to stay here just because this is where you landed, or because you feel obligated to them.”
A dresser drawer slid shut. “I like it here,” Manx said, in her firm, lilted speech.
“I know. I just want you to know that we’d be happy to have you. I’d be happy to have you. I can take care of you, Manx. You and Des.”
Her footsteps paused, and I pictured her staring at the ground, clothes in hand as she weighed what was best for her son against what was best for her heart. “Yes,” she said finally. “I believe that you can.”
That was all I could take.
Yes, Manx had choices, but sometimes choosing for yourself is just as hard as accepting someone else’s choice for you.
Twenty-four minutes later, we stood by the back door, the women at center stage. Kaci wore a stuffed backpack and cradled a sleeping Des, who was blissfully unaware of the danger we were about to carry him into. I had my old college book bag, and just behind us, Mateo Di Carlo carried Manx’s duffel over one shoulder, and his own smaller bag over the other.
My heart ached as I hugged my mother. We weren’t sure whether or not she fell under Malone’s orders to spare the women, since she was beyond childbearing age and long-since married. My father had tried to talk her into going with us, just in case, but she’d stubbornly refused.
“Are you sure you won’t come?” I whispered as I clung to her. “You know how impulsive and bullheaded I am. I could use someone to keep me in line.”
My mother laughed and pulled back so she could see my face. “You’ll grow out of the impulsiveness, and you get the bullheadedness from me. No matter what your father says.” She shot an affectionate glance at him over my shoulder. “But I need to stay here.”
The way she eyed me intently, meaningfully—and the way she spoke her next sentence—sent a violent assault of chills up my spine. “Now, go say goodbye to your father.”
I nodded, still staring into her eyes. Trying not to understand the message she was sending. But it was all too clear.
The man with the gun would be the first and most obvious target. My mother was staying because there was a good chance that this might be my father’s last fight.
I blinked back tears, then turned to hug my father, acutely aware that this was unlike any other preassignment goodbye we’d ever shared. “Be careful,” I whispered, breathing in his scent—the leather, coffee, and aftershave I’d always associated with absolute safety and authority, even if I sometimes chafed under the yoke of them both.
“I was going to say the same thing to you.”
“If you guys make enough noise, we’ll be fine.” I sounded confident, though I was far from sure.
“Oh, we’ll make noise,” Jace promised, and I turned to hug him, too, holding him just a second longer than I should have. Then I went on to hug Michael, Vic, Parker, and Brian. I’d already said goodbye to Owen in his room, where frustration had gleamed like tears in his eyes. He hated missing the fight almost as much as I did. But he’d already struck his blow and given us our prisoner. And without Kai, we wouldn’t know enough to even think about fighting his Flight members.
So I’d kissed the cowboy goodbye and called him my hero. Then ordered him to stay in bed and recuperate.
“Faythe…” Marc began when I faced him, the last of my farewells. But he didn’t have to say any more. We’d said goodbye entirely too often in the past few months, and leaving him again was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Watch yourself.” I went up on my toes to kiss him and let the contact linger a bit longer than I normally would have in front of an audience. “And watch my dad.”
“You know I will.”
And I did know. Marc’s role in the upcoming melee was to protect his Alpha: the man with the gun. And in truth, that would probably be easier without me there for them both to worry about. No matter how far I progressed in my training, no matter how well I fought in either form, there was always someone trying to defend me. Thus putting himself and others in unnecessary danger.
“I’ll see you soon.” I squeezed him harder.
He smiled. “I’d bet my life on it.”
My father cleared his throat. “Everybody ready?”
“Where’s Manx?” I scanned the small crowd and saw her stepping out of Owen’s room. She flushed when she saw us watching, then her stride quickened and grew more confident.
“We are ready?” She took Des when Kaci held him out to her, obviously aware of all the eyes focused on her. Including Mateo’s.
“We are.” As ready as we were going to get, anyway.
My father stepped forward, holding the pistol, and gestured toward his left. The guys—all except Mateo—headed for the front door. My dad turned to me one last time. “Carey Dodd’s already in place waiting for you. You have his number, right?”
